


Just Like Starting Over

by emotionalmotionsickness



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lost Love, Personal Growth, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-22 14:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmotionsickness/pseuds/emotionalmotionsickness
Summary: The gang knows all about Giles' misspent youth. What they don't know is that while he may be done with it, it isn't done with him. His reconnection with a long-lost love causes him to re-evaluate his life, but it spells trouble for Sunnydale and the Scoobies.





	1. One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all. Welcome to my first ever fic published on AO3. Fittingly, it is dedicated to Giles, the first Hot Adult in our TV lives. This fic has it all- fluffy bits, angsty bits, and plenty of airtime for your favorite librarian. For this one, we're assuming there is no Mrs. Calendar. Luv u Jenny, but I can't find a way to fit her in.  
A couple of quick disclaimers: presently, no archive warnings apply and it's rated M. That is subject to change. Also, I am fully aware that there are some anachronisms/inconsistencies in the timeline. I don't know when I am. Finally, I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of its characters, etc. (Are we still doing that?)  
Please like and comment. I love a review or even just a chat. Can't wait to meet you guys!

Rupert Giles was having one of those days. He was hungover- on a Wednesday morning, no less- and unable to resist the siren’s call of the snooze button. He left the house early enough to arrive at work at a respectable time, if not a teacherly one, but then his car wouldn’t start. Delicate though his ancient Citroën was, he felt betrayed. After all they’d been through, she’d abandoned him in a crucial moment. The nerve!

It took a while, but he finally got the engine to turn over. Patting the dashboard affectionately, he drove to work with his heart in his mouth, never going above second gear. He dashed into Sunnydale High School fifteen minutes into first period, taking the long route to avoid walking past Principal Snyder’s office. The man had never liked him, had been trying to get rid of him from the beginning, and Giles did not want to give him an excuse to do it.

Only when he reached the safety of the library could he relax. As usual, nobody was there. With the exception of Buffy and her friends, the children avoided the library at all costs. The energy from the Hellmouth directly beneath it frightened them away. This was unfortunate, of course- young people didn’t read nearly enough- but when he had a hangover, he was glad of it. 

First order of business: tea. Giles unlocked his office and made a beeline for the electric kettle. Proper tea procedure seemed terribly unappealing. It was very American of him, but instant gratification was the order of the day. He dug around in his desk for the box of teabags that had been left behind by the previous librarian. They were- he shuddered- _Constant Comment_. Still, they contained caffeine. He plopped two of the bags into a mug of boiling water, not bothering with sugar or cream. If he could have injected it directly into his bloodstream, he would have.

Mug of the life-sustaining elixir in his hands, he tottered out to the front desk. He thought he’d better at least appear to be working, lest someone come in. His copy of Salman Rushdie’s newest book, _The Ground Beneath Her Feet_, lay on the desk where he’d abandoned it to go on patrol with Buffy the previous night. He rarely had time to read novels but things had been exceptionally slow over the last few weeks. Night after night, Buffy went out and encountered a lone vampire at most. A lull in activity often meant they were organizing, that a major plot was in the works. It worried him, but there was little he could do until they learned more. He opened the book where he had left off the day before and settled back into the story.

When the tea felt just cool enough to drink, Giles lifted the mug to his lips. At that very moment, the library door banged open, making him jump and spill scalding hot tea all down his front. “Perfect,” he muttered. His favorite tie, too. Would the indignities of this day never cease?

“Oops,” said Buffy, wincing. She tiptoed up to the desk, overcompensating for her prior clumsiness. She was sporting a full face of makeup and a fresh blowout and had obviously not come from physical education class.

“Funny, that doesn’t look like your athletic uniform. Isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?” he said dryly.

“Technically, yes, but if I had gone to gym class, I would not have had time to buy you breakfast,” she chirped, dropping a pink pastry box from the Doughnut Hole on the desk in front of him. The contents were disappointing, to say the least. There were three doughnuts left- two sugars and a maple cream, all slightly squashed. Buffy, Willow, and Xander had clearly picked them over; there was a red smear of jelly left on the lid. “You’ve eaten all the jellies,” he nearly whined.

“Giles, you don’t have, like, a monopoly on them. I was starving from last night’s patrol,” she said. The bell heralding second period rang. Giles’ brain veritably rattled. “Physics calls,” Buffy said, swanning off toward the door. “Good luck with your hangover.”

When she was gone, he let his head fall to the desk. How depressing. He was forty-two years old and his life was a mess. Yes, he was the Watcher appointed to one of the more talented Slayers in history and having some success with her training. Unfortunately, this entailed living in a stucco condominium in Sunnydale, California and taking a position as a high school librarian. His best friend was a seventeen-year-old girl who regularly bested him in combat; lately, he spent his days bickering with teenagers over minutiae like doughnuts and radio stations and his nights drinking himself into a stupor while he pored over old letters. Bloody pathetic, he thought to himself.

_The Ground Beneath Her Feet_ had fallen shut when Buffy came in. Giles leafed through it until he found his place. The lovers were reconciling after a decade’s separation, exchanging tender words and vows of fidelity. He snorted and tossed the book down on the desk. His tolerance for romance was at an all-time low. The holidays were nigh and it seemed like everywhere he went, he was confronted with saccharine nonsense. If the television and the radio and the Christmas carols that had been blaring over the supermarket loudspeakers since October were to be believed, everyone in the world had someone to spend Christmas with. Everyone except him.

Just then, Tommy Meyer, a perpetually stoned young man notorious for supplying the better part of the school with Ritalin, wandered in, interrupting the downward spiral. Quoth Tommy: “Hey, man. Do you have any spare chemistry textbooks? Mine kinda got dropped in the fountain.” Giles straightened up. After all, he was supposed to be a role model.


	2. Lady in White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh how did I forget about this fic for one entire calendar year? I mean, I think we all know. If you read the first chapter when it came out, thanks for coming back. If you're here for the first time, thanks for taking a chance on me. If you like it, leave kudos or a comment. If you hate it, leave a comment telling me I suck. Look at all these options we have.

It was 7 p.m. on a Wednesday night, and the end of the semester was still weeks away, but Buffy Summers was cleaning out her locker. She threw away all the candy wrappers and old worksheets, stacked her textbooks in rainbow order, and taped fresh pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio from the latest issue of Seventeen onto the inside of the door. She was about to double-check that the lids to all her gel pens were firmly fastened, but stopped herself. There was no point postponing the inevitable. It was time to train.

Training was no sweat for Buffy. A little crossbow practice, a little krav maga, a fifteen-minute lecture about how Pop-Tarts are not a sufficiently nutritious breakfast for a mighty warrior: all in all, not a big deal. The problem was her Watcher, Giles. He’d always been a little stuffy— he was a British librarian, after all— but lately, he’d gone from strict to miserable. He snapped at Xander over nothing and when she went to his office to bring him breakfast that morning, he’d been so hungover, he could barely hold his head up. Buffy loved him, but his teen-style angst freaked her out. Someone had to be the adult; if not Giles, then who?

Buffy started off in the direction of the library, scuffing the heels of her white go-go boots against the concrete floor like a kid going to time-out. She was on the verge of throwing a fit, and she knew it, but sometimes life just felt so unfair. Between school, slaying, and the paragon of pathetic-ness that was her social life, she was way overbooked. If she made one teeny, tiny mistake, Giles (or her mom, or one of her teachers) wasted no time in coming down on her, but adults screwed up all the time and _they_ didn’t get yelled at for it. She couldn’t imagine how Mrs. Gallagher would react if she showed up to chemistry class sweating vodka.

She pushed open the library door a little too hard, and Giles looked up from his book, startled. “Ah, Buffy. Are you ready to patrol? I thought we might try Restful Acres tonight.” Restful Acres was one of Sunnydale’s twelve cemeteries and, contrary to its name, rife with vampire activity.

“We? You’re coming with me?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, of course. I am your Watcher, after all,” Giles replied. He shrugged into his overcoat and wound that stupid striped scarf around his neck. “I know things have been slow lately, but that’s no reason to shirk our responsibilities. I suggest we take advantage of this reprieve to hone your skills. Come along.” He swept out of the library, and Buffy followed. There was no point in arguing with him when he was like this.

*******

It had rained earlier that day, and the cemetery was wet and muddy. After a couple of hours of sliding around in the muck with not a vampire in sight, Giles finally suggested they call it a night. They walked home down Maple Street.

“Giles?” said Buffy tentatively. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Er, I suppose so, yes,” he said, in that stilted, English way of his.

“Are you okay? Like, emotionally?”

He looked at her over the top of his glasses, which always gave her the willies. “Yes, of course. What on earth do you mean?”

“Giles, come on,” Buffy said, exasperated. “Ever since we got back from Thanksgiving break, you’ve been totally weird. Half the time, it’s like you’re on another planet, and when you are here, you’re snappish.”

“Buffy-“

“You are!”

“Yes, I suppose I have been. I’m sorry.” Giles stopped in the middle of the street, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if he was trying to think of a way to give her terrible news. “The truth is, Buffy, and you’ll find this out for yourself as you get older—“

It was then that Buffy felt it. As long as she lived, she would never be able to explain what _it_ was, even to herself. Giles called it her Slayer instinct, but she preferred to think of it as her spidey sense. It wasn’t a smell, or a sound; it was something like a feeling, but much more solid and real. It was knowledge. Something was wrong. “Giles, shh!”

He looked affronted. “Look here, you’re the one who—“

“Giles! Vampires!”

“Oh. Right.”

Two blocks down the street, a girl walked into an alley. Buffy knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was walking into a trap. She took off running, with Giles jogging behind.

When Buffy reached the mouth of the alley, one of the vampires ran out to meet her. He was already on fire. There was a time when such a sight would have shocked her, or at least given her pause, but she just ducked under his elbow and kept running towards the unmistakable sound of a human body being thrown into a pile of trash cans. He’d be dust soon enough.

Buffy could scarcely believe her eyes. Two vamps, big guys in full biker drag, had a woman backed up against a brick wall. She was twenty-five or thirty, no bigger than Buffy, and wearing a flowing white dress, like a heroine from an Anne Rice novel. She looked for all the world like the vampire equivalent of a TV dinner— quick, easy, and unimaginative— which was why Buffy was so surprised to see her fighting back. She gave one a roundhouse kick to the face, hard enough to put him on the floor. Before he even hit the ground, she crouched down, pulled a Zippo lighter from her bra and set fire to his pant leg. He went up in a matter of seconds. The other snarled with rage and lunged. In one fluid motion, she pulled a stake out from under her skirt and just sort of… let the vampire fall on it. It dissolved into her lap, and she sprang up, dusting herself off and spluttering. “Oh my God,” she said to no one. “That is absolutely disgusting. Ohh, it’s in my mouth.”

Buffy crept backwards, further into the shadows, until she was pressed up against the opposite wall. She didn’t want to be seen until she had a better handle on the situation. Who the hell was this girl? A demon hunter? She had to have some kind of powers. No way was she that fast and that strong through training alone. The last time she saw someone besides her handle a vamp that well, she’d found out about Kendra. Oh my God, was there yet another Slayer? Did they even make them that old?

Before her stalking yielded any results, Giles appeared at the mouth of the alley. He was bent over with his hands on his knees, wheezing. Buffy rolled her eyes. He really needed to try aerobics, or something. “Buffy?” he called out. “Buffy, is everything alright?” Then, he straightened up and caught sight of the girl. A thousand emotions passed over his face, before it came to rest on the slack jaw and raised eyebrows of utter disbelief. “Siobhan?” he choked.

The girl looked up, dark eyes flashing. Buffy saw her recognize Giles, and not with excitement. In fact, she looked terrified. Before he could say or do anything else, she took off down the alley. Within seconds, she was a white shape in the distance, and Giles was a stranger, kneeling in a puddle of mystery liquid and absolutely bereft.


End file.
